Thursday, July 21, 2011

"Missing photo" I know I'm not crazy, so why is it I can not find you?

Snapshot from my mother's past you are grating on my nerves. You captured the essence of her beauty in its simplicity, and I want nothing more than to share that with her and the world.

Long golden locks of hair swept down her back accenting her pale skin. The forbidden mini-skirt that was the source of many a tantrum on my part in my youth, along with Go-Go boots, made her tall frame appear goddess-like.

The lack of smile is apparent, but does not diminish the happiness in her eyes. There is that twinkle. The one that we as children knew expressed her joy without words.

There is no need for her to smile.

She has just been wed to my father in a quiet ceremony and is content.

She is loved.

So where are you "photograph" of this past moment in time?

You can stay hidden, but you cannot erase the image I have in my mind.

I've seen it's value, and it shall remain priceless and untouched in my memories.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

My Crystal bowl is the recipient of my current anger management. I can't say why I chose this bowl, except that it is tied to my failed marriage. I hated that I could not hold onto something I cherished so much. It almost killed me to physically release myself from my bond to him. He was my everything, but I became nothing.

I took to smoking again. The back story is one I will post later, or maybe I won't. I wanted to desecrate something that would give me release. I wanted it to be something special.

Well, he has a lot of my belongings still and the few I took with me I knew I had limited choices. Light bulb! He had this thing about getting all the finer things in life. "Keeping up with the Jones's." is the best cliche that suits this situation.

My mind immediately went to the Crystal bowl. The damn crystal that I didn't want but he thought would make our home more like others. What the hell is that about? I wanted a home not a simulation.

So I defiled the bowl that symbolized our union. I lit my cigarette, took a few drags, stared at the lit tip, exhaled and then crushed it out in the center where I could snuff out the name of the artist who created the work of beauty.

Each day that comes and goes is another page in my neverending fairytale.

Hi there. This blog wreaks like rotten garbage. If you read it you may experience eye twitching and/or nausea. If you are still interested, please proceed to my useless knowledge, and always morphing blog. Don't say I didn't warn you.